


Please Not Him

by Halevetica



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gabriel mentioned - Freeform, M/M, Metatron mentioned - Freeform, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Post canon, The Almighty mentioned, Worried Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 12:47:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20115337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halevetica/pseuds/Halevetica
Summary: Due to something said by the angels during Aziraphale's trial, Crowley is concerned for Aziraphale's angelic innocence and makes a last ditch effort to prevent his friends from falling.





	Please Not Him

The idea of Aziraphale falling had never occurred to Crowley. He was too good. Too kind and gentle. Crowley had always imagined that if the Almighty had a favorite angel, it was Aziraphale. That was, of course, until he was walking out of heaven as Aziraphale, unharmed by hellfire. Sandalphon had stepped in front of him, blocking his way down.

"Enjoy your halo for as long as you can, I don't doubt you'll lose it before long."

"Lose it?" Crowley frowned in confusion, having never even considered falling an option for the angel he loved so much.

"You can't very well expect to stay an angel after all you've done. You're not one of us, that right there just proved it," Sandalphon gestured to the hellfire that Crowley had just been standing in.

Crowley had to bite back a snide remark about Aziraphale being more of an angel than any of them.

"You'll fall, and when you do, you'll find your boyfriend in the sunglasses wasn't worth it after all," Uriel added.

"Crowley, what are you thinking about so hard?" Aziraphale frowned over his teacup at the demon, shaking him from his thoughts.

"Nothing, angel," Crowley refused to tell Aziraphale what had been said. He hadn't wanted the angel to worry. He'd just kept a close eye on his angel.

"You sure? You seem...uneasy lately," Aziraphale set his cup down and focused on Crowley.

It had been three days since their trials.

"I'm tired. I think I'm gonna get going," Crowley stood from the tartan sofa and made his way towards the door.

"Crowley, before you go," Aziraphale stood and cautiously made his way towards the demon.

Crowley paused at the door, hand on the knob.

"Have a good night, my dear," Aziraphale pressed a kiss to Crowley's cheek. The demon felt the miracle wash over him. He had been restless in his sleep as of late and he wandered if the angel had taken notice.

"Night, angel," Crowley choked out.

He slid into the streets of Soho only to be stopped in his tracks by the sight of Michael.

Dread washed over the demon, but he put on his best sneer as he stalked towards the angel. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm simply here checking on Aziraphale," Michael spoke calmly.

"Why?"

"I've been doing this every day since he left heaven. I am to report when he has fallen," She answered remaining motionless.

"What?" Crowley's voice gasped out quietly.

"Gabriel put in the order with Metatron."

Crowley's heart sank. "No, only...only the Almighty can make an angel fall," his tone was desperate like a plea for her to reconsider.

"While that is true, Gabriel is her highest- ranking angel. She trusts his judgement. I must report in, but I will say this..." Micha turned her eyes to Crowley for the first time. "I pray that his fall is painless and swift." With that she was gone.

Anger burned through Crowley like the feel of hellfire in his veins. How could they do this to Aziraphale? He was such a good angel. Sure, he didn't fall in line with all the rest of the angels, but he was good, in every sense of the word.

Crowley slid into the front seat of his Bentley. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He didn't know what to do. He felt helpless. Hopeless. What could he possibly do to help his angel? What did people do when they felt hopeless?

Pray.

His eyes flicked open. He wasn't the praying type. He'd attempted to angrily during the apocalypse, but he'd received no answer.

The idea angered him. Why would he pray to a god that didn't care?

Perhaps she did care though. The apocalypse hadn't come to pass. That could have very well been her plan all along, or maybe she had answered Crowley's prayer. God didn't always answer prayers in the way you expected.

Tears pricked Crowley's eyes. He squeezed them shut again.

"God, it's me again. I know I'm the bastard son that rebelled but Aziraphale isn't me. Please don't do this to him. He doesn't deserve it. Do it to me instead. Punish me. Take your anger out on me. Blame me. Just leave him be. He loves you. He loves everything you created. Why would you punish him for that? Isn't that what you wanted? Us to love your creation? Please, I'm begging you. Please not him," a tear slid from his eyes.

A sense of warmth washed over him then. It reminded him of Aziraphale only stronger. Could it be God?

As soon as the idea came to him, he dismissed it. It must have been Aziraphale's miracle trying to work. He was tired after all.

Meanwhile inside the bookshop, Aziraphale felt a cold shiver wash over him, it reminded him of the way Crowley's miracle's felt. Which was odd as Crowley had gone home.

The cold melted away into a heat he knew to be of heaven.

"How odd," He muttered, before settling back into his seat with a small wiggle. Dismissing the feeling as he dove back into his book.

Crowley would wake in the morning in the front seat of his Bentley to Aziraphale knocking on his window, his halo still very much intact.

Gabriel would be furious to learn of the Almighty's decision, but he wouldn't question it as he didn't want to risk his own halo.

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a little thing I thought of, anyway I'm trying really hard to get back into the writing mood, so sorry if these next few are crap. Enjoy!


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